Visiting Hours
by Seta Suzume
Summary: Their crimes together four years behind him, Machi heads to the state penitentiary to see Daryan. ...And it turns out one visit isn't enough.


b**Prelude - Larghissimo**/b

Clank, whir, buzz, clink. The steely gaze of the guards, the wolfish stares of the prisoners. The thorough process one was forced through to visit a friend or family member in a state penitentiary had a certain metallic rhythm to it after half a dozen or so repetitions. Machi would come to appreciate the orderly procedure- take off your shoes, empty your pockets, walk through the metal detector- each step like the gentle tick-tock of a metronome.

This time, the first time, he held his breath, expecting to have his visitation rights revoked at any step. That he was allowed to visit with his past partner in crime at all didn't seem strictly kosher. Perhaps things were different because he was no longer a minor as he had been at the time of the crime. He had served his short sentence at the youth facility and passed uneventfully through his period of parole. Daryan's sentence continued to stretch indefinitely out before him.

Swish, fwip, click, snap. "Go on in. You get fifteen minutes."

b**The First Visit.**/b

"So, uh, you doing good?" Daryan asked.

Machi had been somewhat taken aback upon seeing him. It had been four years now since the trial. His face was thin and drawn, while his upper body retained its nice muscle tone (That was part of what Machi had seen on "Lockup," right? Men using their time in prison to work out). Daryan's ostentatious hair was largely tamed, still long, but hanging in an uninspired and shaggy ponytail down his back. A lot of the bite was gone from his voice. ...But there was still that defiant spark burning in his blue eyes. And, somehow, Machi was glad to see it. "I am alright."

"You given up smuggling and that other dangerous shit?"

"Of course. I have been good since then." Did it seem to Daryan like he was staring? Machi forced himself to break this weighted eye contact. He turned his gaze downward to his (caught red-handed) hands, both of them griping the special phone he had to speak through to converse with his old partner.

Peeking up through his pale eyelashes made him look shy, Daryan thought. And still beautiful. He thought a lot, mostly late at night, about what would have happened if he hadn't had to kill Letouse- if they hadn't gotten caught. Machi was sort of grown up now... It felt so sudden without his being around to see it happen. But he wasn't so much handsome as he was pretty. He was still small and dainty and girlish...pretty.

"So," Daryan's tone picked up some of its familiar growl, as he squeezed the receiver between his toughened fingers, "Bein' good and all. How's that working out for you? Is it a tough change of pace?"

"You make sound like I am some career criminal," Machi pouted. This wasn't what he had hoped to talk about. ...But what was? Did you ever really love me? Do you still love me? Were those really valid questions? Ones that Machi would dare to ask?

"Well, it wasn't like the smuggling thing was the first time you'd broken a law, right?" It was funny- maybe people were right when they said a person needed to stop hanging around with their old bad influences to quit drinking or using drugs and stuff. Just talking to Machi through glass revived his old self in ways no other thought or experience he'd had in the past four years had.

"Those things were different."

"Sorry," Daryan relented. He frowned. That wasn't like him.

Machi met his eyes again, shyly. His voice came out as tiny as a child's, like Daryan remembered. "I miss you," he said.

b**The Second Visit.**/b

"You came back. You really did it."

"What is this?" Machi chuckled, "You think you scare me off? With your last time 'Oh, I miss you also, so much'? It is easier for me to handle you now that you are in the shark tank."

"Oh," Daryan leaned back a little, trying to stress his self-sufficience. Machi was making a mistake if he interpreted his behavior here as needly. He was still an aloof, independent guy. He didn't sit so close to the glass to make the gap between Machi and himself as small as possible. He was just trying to sit as far as he could from the nearest guard. ...Yeah, that was it. "I guess it makes sense that a kid like you would prefer the safety of the aquarium to the open sea."

"At Mr. Wright's place we watch Shark Week and I am reminded of you," Machi refrained from rising to the bait.

"Even those numbskulls watch, huh? Shows how popular it is."

"Mr. Justice hide behind the couch."

"Aha ha ha ha!" Daryan slapped his knee, the loud snapping sound drawing the attention of the guard, who, realizing what had transpired, looked merely annoyed. "I think your whole visit might've been worth it just to hear that!"

"You are still not very good at this friendship thing."

Daryan leaned back in and bared his teeth in preparation for a particularly bold barb. "Who said anything about friendship?"

The tiny world of two and an outlier crashed to a complete and sudden halt. Daryan held his grin long, longer, to the point where even he began to find it inappropriate. Machi stared, his feelings, beyond an obvious coldness of one sort or other, unreachable, unexplainable, to the former rockstar.

And Machi's hand came very close to putting that phone down before Daryan's smile was abolished and he was squeaking anxiously into his end of the line, "Machi! Machi! Kid! Wait! I'm sorry! I was joking! I didn't mean it!"

Machi paused, able to catch the words in their entirety, even with the receiver this far from his face. Although, physically, they were quite close, it sounded like Daryan was calling to him from some great distance. That was the distance, he imagined, between their hearts. What had he expected? Rehabilitation was all but a myth. Prison hadn't changed Daryan at all.

"Oh, please, Machi, damn it, don't leave me here all alone!"

The young man raised his hand again until his folded fingers were pressed against his cheek. "You can understand now better how I felt back then."

"Wh-what?" Daryan sounded just a small bit less confused than he did relieved.

"I had ended up so dependent on you. If you left me, how could I stand? Had I not managed with Lamiroir before you and on my own before that? I was not just pretend blind then, I suppose."

That made sense. "I get it," Daryan relented. He might not like it, but if he didn't want to lose this one new link with the outside world, he would have to play by Machi's rules. The bulletproof glass, or whatever divided them out here, might seem dignified, but he was, after all, just an animal in a cage. He had said so himself.

"About friendship- do you mean that or is a lie?"

The answer Daryan gave to this inquiry would be important. The way he delivered that answer would be important too. "You got me, Machi. I was just being an asshole. You've gotta understand me when I say that I've never been good at showing my soft side. That's sure as hell not going to get any easier in prison." He waited. What would Machi say in reply?

"Yes, I can imagine not."

b**The Third Visit.**/b

"I guess you still play piano, right? I mean, even I couldn't spoil that for you." It wasn't like Machi wasn't young and couldn't move on to some other hobby or career, but music was what Daryan associated him with. He had a deep, classical soul. That stuff meant a lot to him- more than it had ever meant to Daryan, who'd gone through some of his biggest 'artistic differences' arguments with Klavier over the fact that of the two of them, only he would admit that he started a rock band for the girls it would attract.

"I still play," Machi agreed.

"The money we would've made probably looks like chump change now. You're probably raking it in, getting offers from orchestras and shit..."

"No, nothing so grand. I play some clubs in city, Trucy's magic art, a little with Klavier for new solo album... I want to stay low profile. I am..." he took the entirety of Daryan his situation in with his big blue eyes, "Scare a little of fame and what it can do to you, you know?"

"You're not like me. Maybe fame'd give you trouble, but it wouldn't be the same type." Back then this careful young man had been an ambitious boy. Daryan knew enough about Machi that he didn't have to worry that he'd get caught up in the sex-and-drugs aspect of the famous life. Now, the selling out for cash part, maybe...

"That's right," Machi recovered some measure of self-confidence, "I am not like you. I am not idiot."

"Ha ha," Daryan was jolted by the suddenness of it, "There you go!"

"Is there any way for you to make music? Join a prison band?"

"Nah, I'm not interested in jamming with any of these losers. Maybe I make a little music still, inside my head, but you know, a caged bird just doesn't sing the same.

Machi could relate. During his time at the youth detention center, he had felt like he would waste away without playing the piano ever again. But the light at the end of the tunnel beckoned to him: you will be free again; your life is not over. Daryan's prospects weren't as good. Machi wouldn't blame him for feeling daunted. "Yes. You remember freedom."

"Actually," Daryan ran his free hand through his hair, "I know what caged birds do. They hear the wild ones, and then they call out to them."

"Are you going to sing to me, Daryan?" Machi fluttered his eyelashes cutely. If Daryan didn't laugh or bark or otherwise brush that idea off, he would be shocked (but maybe, secretly, kind of happy?).

"With that skeevy guard listening in? Eeeh," Daryan pulled a funny face. He wasn't reacting as strongly as Machi had expected. "I don't know what to sing, anyway. Did you come ready with a request, kiddo? What kind of song attracts the wild Machi? You're probably only playing classical."

"Ah, I did not think it through so far as all that," the blond admitted. He had only been playing along with Daryan's words as they came.

"Meh, I should've guessed. You never were that good at improvisation." He'd learned enough sense to refrain from adding, "Or we'd never have gotten caught," like he was thinking. He still tended to have a big mouth, but he was also vividly aware of how precarious his renewed friendship with Machi was. The distance provided by time had weakened their emotional bond. Machi was free to come and go according to his whims (well, and those of the state). Maybe the things Daryan said could move him a tiny bit, but he wasn't about to risk it all over one characteristically asshole-ish move. The power in their relationship had definitively shifted.

"Is still not my strongest point," Machi admitted. Maybe it was his way of showing that he had grown too. It was, in any case, a concession.

"I guess maybe I'll start thinking about songs then. Song-writing. It's been a while."

"What will you write about? Your tough life in prison?"

"Three more minutes, you guys," the guard cut in, but Daryan was used to these sorts of interruptions enough to take it in stride.

"Nah, I'm not into that gangsta rap. This'll be a song for you. I know you don't wanna hear about that."

"Klavier wrote many of the Gavinners' songs."

"That's right. ...But I've got plenty of time. I'm sure I can squeeze something out of the dregs of my creativity. Just you wait."

"I will not hold you to it."

b**The Sixth Visit.**/b

"Oh, before I forget...I..." Daryan struggled with whether or not to actually come out and say what was foremost on his mind. i_Geez, this was so stupid. Man up, you moron._/i "I finished the song."

"Song?" The memory quickly dawned on Machi, "You really wrote me a song?"

Daryan shifted a little in his seat and flashed a quick grin. "Yeah. I've been workin' on it. It's pretty tricky, you know, coming up with something that I don't think will embarrass me in front of you."

"You think that I am difficult to please?"

"Actually, yeah- Ha ha ha, no," Daryan rushed to make sure Machi knew he was joking, "Just kidding." Machi knew he was joking right? "...Really."

"I believe you, Daryan." Machi was casual and calm. Just hearing Daryan bring it up again was pleasant and sort of amusing. Machi couldn't remember Daryan ever being funny back when they were partners in crime. At that time he had been serious, or sexy or even frightening, but he never made Machi want to laugh.

"Oh, oh, okay then. Well, I'll try and explain myself a little better. See, if I write something stupid, not only are you probably going to laugh at it and not take me seriously, it wouldn't be, uh..." When he realized what he wanted to say, the words surprised him and he choked on them- could he- i_should he_/i actually say that? It was awfully...revealing. He would sound awfully...vulnerable. But those words were the truth. 'Nothing to fear but fear itself,' right? "...It wouldn't be worthy of you. And, uh, my feelings for you. So it was important to do it right." There. He'd said it.

Machi's look went not cold, but constricted, nervous. "Do you love me, Daryan?"

"What kind of question is that?" Daryan balked.

"Answer me so I can answer you."

Those words were important- not just the words, but that Machi was saying them. Daryan could tell. He looked straight into Machi's eyes instead of avoiding them as he had been for half the conversation. Was that the color one would call "true blue?" "Yeah. I love you. ...Maybe I love you again, maybe I never completely stopped. But...yeah." Why did he always come off sounding like such an idiot during these visits?

"I love you too," Machi said and his voice was so very tight and small. "May I please hear your song?"

That was what Daryan had come to suspect at this point, but there was no way he could have said so before this- it was mutual. There was a burning in his chest, an unfolding of emotion that made the bounds of his imprisonment suddenly just as constricting as they'd felt on his first day behind bars. But there was nothing to be done about it. He was trapped, physically, by all the prison system's shackles and strictures, and emotionally, by all the feelings there was no way he could speak. So he'd just coast along, riding on the wave provided for him by Machi's beatific smile. "Sure," he agreed, and, soft and rough, he began to sing.

b**Interlude - Andante**/b

"Daddy's kind of worried about you, Machi." She was the sort who didn't get too hung up on things and was therefore able to breeze through her act with a brilliant smile despite the news she was going to have to deliver, but Trucy still wasn't thrilled to tell her sometime-accompanist this. Machi was a wonderful musician, but he was often a something of a difficult person to deal with.

...Of course, she was certain that he had a good heart underneath that cold cocoon he'd built to keep the world away. He just needed to smile more! Happiness wasn't only something you just waited around for- if only you went out into the world and tried, you could make it with your own two hands! She glanced across the backstage area to where Vera was packing up their props. Their eyes met and Vera gave her a subtle thumbs-up. Trucy took a deep breath and felt her smile come rebounding back. It was important, Polly told her, not to left Machi intimidate you. There really wasn't any reason to fear him. He wasn't outwardly a kid anymore, but inside he was still a scared little boy.

"Why so?" Machi asked calmly.

Trucy was glad that he'd answered her. He hadn't lashed out either. Sometimes he just clammed out. "Well, because you've been going up to visit Daryan so much. ...And you just seem sad." The last part wasn't what Daddy had said, but her own opinion based on spending time around him. In some ways, Machi was almost like her younger brother, but it seemed like Trucy could never quite tap into that bound and engage him. Why couldn't they be friends? Why couldn't they be like family?"

"I am not sad," Machi sighed. His behavior didn't do much to discourage that impression of him. "I am same as always." Which was because he was ialways/i sort of sad, Trucy thought. "I do not see problem with visiting Daryan. We are separate now. No trouble will happen."

"You know, you don't always have to live in the past," Vera spoke up. "I know it can be nearly impossible to imagine, but you have a future too. If you're willing to take some steps to improve your situation, it could be beautiful."

Trucy's lips hung open a little before she regained her composure and burst out with a radiant smile. "And coming from you, that means a lot, Vera!"

Vera blushed and looked away. It wasn't easy to say these things, let alone be complimented on them. She had come a long way from when she first met Apollo and Trucy, but there remained many difficulties. She felt she had a long way left to go.

Machi seemed thoughtful, perhaps impressed (Vera rarely spoke that many words in a row in his presence), but his mind was unchanged. "That may being good for you, for other people, but is not maybe for me. I do not want to be leaving my past behind. ...For me, the past is maybe the future." He put on his jacket and adjusted his dark glasses. "We are finish here, so I will go."

"M-Machi, why don't you stay and go out with us for some cake and coffee!" Trucy tried to call him back.

It was unsuccessful. He didn't even look at her.

...He really was a tough nut to crack. "Sorry that didn't work out," she apologized to Vera, "I know that wasn't easy for you."

"It's okay. I didn't expect him to like it. In the past, I wouldn't have felt good about it either."

"You're a good friend, Vera. I think I'm going to have to tell Daddy that someone else should talk to Machi. Someone he might really listen to." Trucy tapped her finger against her chin, "Someone he respects...?" Just two options came to mind: Lamiroir, or perhaps Klavier. Even for them, with the way things had been going lately, it wouldn't be simple.

b**The Eighth Visit.**/b

"People still trying to dissuade you from coming out here?"

"Is not quite like that." Machi wasn't sure Daryan would ever really understand where his friends and "family" were coming from when they warned him against getting too involved in this relationship. He was an endless font of poor judgment and bad ideas (and this Machi knew from personal experience, as well as some of Klavier's more colorful anecdotes).

"What is it, then?" Daryan tried to proceed patiently.

"It is love, Daryan," Machi blushed a little as he said it. "They worry about me- us- being back in love."

"What's there to," the older man began to complain, before the truth became so clear that it was undeniable even to him, "Oh, yeah. I guess there're plenty of things that they could half-reasonably worry about."

Machi let out a tiny laugh, bright and tinkling like bells.

"What's there to laugh about though?" Daryan asked, the crinkling edges of mirth touching the edge of his voice as well. "Is it really funny?"

"The way you say it is," the young musician explained. "I can nearly hear as you suddenly see reason."

"You don't respect me at all," he sighed.

"That is something you would expect?"

"After everything that's happened between us?" Now that he stopped and thought about it... "I guess not. Well, not much. You should respect me because I'm older than you."

"I do not expect to hear that from American. Is youth society, Daryan. Soon enough, you will be an old man and no one will care for your opinion anymore," Machi teased.

"No one cares what I think anyway," Daryan shrugged, "I'm in prison!"

"You are in fine mood today, you know? I am feeling something like I am on a date." As soon as the words passed his lips, a look of slight surprise and comprehension bloomed into a rose-colored flush, tingeing Machi's pale face from cheeks to ears.

Daryan didn't blush, but he could feel his face warming slightly in return. Machi wanted to be so solemn and mature, but he was still just a cute kid. "I wish I could take you on a real date. ...It's one of a lot of things I'd like to do with you now. A lot of them are things I should've done before, to tell you the truth. I was just too stupid and mean back then." Okay, now this part was going to be kind of embarrassing. "I took you for granted."

"...Oh?" Machi batted his eyelashes shyly. Daryan didn't think he was aware of that tic of his. It was sort of tranquilly flirtatious. Girlish too. Man, it turned him on.

"Yeah, I admit I was a real asshole then. I guess I figured I was completely in control of the entire situation. If I wanted you, I could have you whenever I chose. I must have figured I'd have you by my side forever. Once the murder went down and you didn't take the rap for me in court, things changed."

"And you said you were very mad about it."

"At first. Definitely. I would've liked to have strangled you with my bare hands. ...But like I've said- I hope I've explained it good enough- time changes stuff, people. Time changes everything."

"Don't be sad then, Daryan. Let's make the most out of our time. Let's talk about something nice. About, maybe," Machi searched the contents of his busy mind for a happier topic, "Dates. Tell me about the dates you would like to take me on."

"Heh heh, oh, that's a good one. I've already thought about that plenty," Daryan leaned back in his chair, relaxing. "I'd take you to Hollywood and you could see all the fancy old theaters. We'd take in a movie- something new and exciting with lots of chase scenes and explosions, but with a nice spot of romance on the side- and we'd sit in the back and make-out and it would be kind of amazing as long as we didn't get thrown out. ...But they couldn't do that to me, since I'm a celebrity. Did you know the Gavinners have a star out there? We'd go take your picture with it. There are some good places to eat out there too, obviously. We'd go somewhere expensive."

"You really have thought over this!"

"Hey, don't get me started! That's only one of them! When you're locked up, you suddenly remember all the great places outside and the things you can do there that you took for granted. I could tell you a million of these stories."

"Oh?" Machi grinned at this exaggeration, "So many?"

"Yeah!" Daryan insisted, "Just...some of them are a lot like some of the others."

Together, they burst into laughter.

b**The Eleventh Visit.**/b

"You seem calm. Real calm. You kind of were always that way on the outside, weren't you?" Daryan mused. This was getting to be a regular occurrence these days. He looked forward to Machi's visits more than anything else. They were what made him smile during his time on the yard and then get into innumerable, "What are you looking at bozo?" sort of fights that didn't help him get along any better with the guards.

"Hmm," Machi shrugged. He tried to act that way. It was a form of protection against all the bitter thorns of the world that tried to tear at him.

"Hey, tell me," Daryan urged his friend, teeth glimmering in a tough-set smile, "What's behind that cold facade? Describe how you really feel inside."

"What is point of this?" Machi argued with little force. "...Fine. I do not see what good it is, but I do it."

"Yeah!"

A guard cast more than a passing glance over Daryan to see what it was he was so excited about, but, as it didn't appear to be anything threatening, he allowed the remark to pass without stepping in to inquire.

"Inside, I am, see, like an empty box. Nothing in it. Just darkness. Just air. My feelings swirl around. If I am lucky, there is music."

"Damn, you're kind of poetic, aren't you, Machi? Like Klavier. It's funny. You guys didn't exactly get on, did you?"

"Is different now," Machi explained, "There are not so many secrets between us. I see Klavier here and there. He is alright."

"You," Daryan's face fell, "You, uh...I guess it's a dumb idea to ask you to say 'hi' to him from me, huh? He hasn't come here to see me. Not even once."

"No? Is somehow surprising, a little. He is think of you, I think. Still there is big poster of your band up in his office."

"Psh, well, I guess a big guy like Klavier's got too much on his plate to waste time with someone like me. He's got enough angst with his freaky brother and all, right?"

"I- I will say something to him for you," Machi promised. He twisted the phone cord around his fingers, focusing on them instead of Daryan's pained face. It felt like Daryan had dismissed the discussion of Machi's feelings that he had personality asked for in favor of moping over Klavier. Maybe it was sort of unfair to get upset about it. Did he take things too personally? Whether he did or whether he didn't, it still hurt.

"So...that box inside."

Machi chanced a glance back up into Daryan's sharp blue eyes. He had been sidetracked, sure, but he hadn't forgotten. He hadn't given up on Machi. "Right now, when you're with me...what's it like inside it?"

"Is a storm. Is very big. What are the words they call it? A tempest? Is typhoon?"

"They both work. 'Tempest' sounds good."

"Oh, thank you. Anyway, everything is all swirling around and around. It is exciting, like old times, but frightening too. Whether the tempest stops or whether it keeps going forever...both scare me."

"You'll keep visiting though, won't you?" Daryan did not say "Please," even though it was the word foremost in his mind.

"Yes," Machi promised, "I cannot stop now."

b**The Twelfth Visit.**/b

"Happy birthday, Daryan. I know it is a little late, but I could not come that day...And I cannot really bring you present either. ...But I did put money into your account."

"Ah, really?" Daryan grinned, "Yeah, thank you! That's awesome! I'm gonna spend it all on candy and make myself a Snickers cake!"

"Is, uh, Snickers your favorite?" It was sweet to see him so excited over what seemed like a little thing (he was the more childish of the two of them, Machi was sure of that). His anecdotes about in-cell cooking always made his friend laugh.

"It's my favorite that they've got."

"When you...if you get out...I will make sure and buy you wonderful birthday cake to make up for all the ones you had in here."

"Don't buy it, make one for me!" Daryan insisted.

"I am no good at that."

"What about the créme brulee? You did that all right! And, hey," Daryan shook a finger at him as a teasing warning, "I'm not gettin' out tomorrow, as much as I'd like that. You've got more than enough time to learn something about how. Take a lesson at...what's that crafty place? JoAnn's?"

"How do you know such place?" It seemed completely outside Daryan's world, at least as far as Machi's knowledge of him (and he'd believed it was relatively comprehensive) was concerned.

"The same darn way I know about most girly things I know- that goofball, Klavier," there was some good-natured annoyance in the roll of his eyes that accompanied that name (thinking of Klavier quickly like this was fine, but thinking deeply of him was more painful that he cared to admit- the time-worn links of that relationship had been ground into dust). "What, do you think I'd have been there because of my sister? She wasn't exactly the do-it-yourselfer type."

"Hmph, Klavier," Machi agreed. He could picture that. "...Do they truly teach baking at JoAnn's? I had thought it was fabric store."

"Hey, don't ask me! I'm the one who's been locked up the past four and a half years! I know they used to have stuff like that. Go by your local place and look it up."

"I will do that. If there is cake class, I will go, even if all around me is middle-aged housewives, and I will be best student in class," Machi vowed fervently.

"Ha ha, I can picture that. I bet they'll teach you how to make those fancy frosting rosettes and everything. Won't that be a sight! ...If you get sick of the music scene, then maybe you can go work for a bakery and make wedding cakes or something."

"I think I would prefer stick to birthday cakes," the blond said modestly.

"I would've thought fancy, all-white stuff would be to your liking," Daryan shrugged.

"I cannot relate to weddings so well. Since I come to America, I learn plenty about birthdays." His sad aspect faded as he reminisced over those impromptu cultural lessons. "...You have not seen real American birthday party until you have been to Trucy Wright's birthday party."

"Ugh," Daryan shuddered, "I can imagine."

"Daryan, you are so funny!"

b**The Sixteenth Visit.**/b

"How serious are you about me?"

"Eh? I do not think I understand what you are saying with this."

"Hmm." Daryan shook his head slowly, stray dark hairs fanning out around his face, "I guess I forget sometimes... Your English has gotten so good since we first met."

"I have had plenty of time to practice. ...And plenty of reason to. In youth center, only one staff member speak Borginian. When all you hear is English, you learn fast."

"Yeah, yeah, that's right," Daryan rushed through his response, eager not to lose the thread of the initial conversation to some digression. "What I was trying to ask is...our relationship- how do you feel about it? ...Do you, uh, ever see any guys but me? N-not that I'm saying you can't, it's just, you don't say and I'm not there, so I don't know, and..."

"There is no one else, Daryan. There is no one else I would go through prison metal detectors to see. There is no one who makes my heart beat so much like you do."

...Was it right to feel a little bad now? Machi's face retained its pale calm, but he did that cute looking down thing, toying with the phone cord. Sometimes it felt like Machi was the one confined, not him. Daryan wished he could punch his fists right through the glass and reach out and hug him (and kiss him and hold him and do a lot of other things that Machi wouldn't let him do in public even if they weren't in the visiting section of a state prison).

"You, uh, I guess you know that there isn't anyone else for me either. ...And even if there could be, there wouldn't. ...And it's, you know," his voice cracked in an odd, embarrassing way, "It's hard not to be able to hold you."

"I would kiss the glass, but two things hold me back: I think I am not allowed and I am little scared it has not been wiped clean since 1980. I only imagine who else has been touching it."

"Ha ha, yeah, I wouldn't want you to get sick from it. Or get in trouble. This is good. Just being here together. I'd just better work on my shitty imagination if I want to make it good enough."

"You think about me when I am not here?"

"All the freaking time, are you kidding me? ...And you think about me too?"

"More than anyone. I lie alone in bed and put my arms around myself," Machi demonstrated the lonely gesture, wrapping his arms from one shoulder to the other in a tiny hug, "And try to pretend that holding me is you."

"I wanna hold you. I really, really do." Damn, Machi was killing him here.

b**The Nineteenth Visit.**/b

"And if you're willing, I want to marry you."

"Liar," Machi accused him. It was his inevitable gut reaction to such an outlandish proposal. It was a form of protection. Did he really believe Daryan was lying? Did he think that Daryan was telling the truth? Either way, he felt his heart tighten in his chest. There it was, that old familiar warning: "you're going to be hurt."

"And you're not a liar yourself?" Daryan snapped back. He wished he could break the phone connecting them in two with his bare hands to squeeze out the rage that filled him. What drove his anger at this response? It wasn't as if he could claim to have known what answer Machi would give him. There was a reason he had couched his proposal in such unromantic terms- he didn't want to waste a lot of mushy sentiment if all Machi would do was immediately tear him down.

Maybe they couldn't see how similar they were that way. If neither man would allow his shields to drop as he had in the past, how could they ever make the kind of connection that both of them truly desired?

"Anyway, forget that dumb liar stuff," Daryan hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the curious guard attracted by the sudden violent rise in his voice. "I'm serious, Machi. What else do you think I have going for me these days? I feel so lucky that you started coming out to see me. I always look forward to your visits. And I know now that I still care about you. Honestly, seriously. Look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me that I don't love you."

Machi battled the urge to keep his gaze averted, but something of the strain in Daryan's stress-tightened throat caused him to look up. He did look sincere, he really did, but hadn't Machi met so many men and women who could paint any expression across their face they desired that he should know better than to trust a pair of beautiful blue eyes? "I love you too," he admitted. His voice cracked. "I am scared."

"Believe me, won't you? Say "yes." I want to touch you again, Machi." He put his hand up against the glass.

Machi reached up to put his hand against the glass opposite it. His hand was still much smaller than Daryan's. Could he pretend that they weren't separated by something so big as the law? Could he pretend that the glass between them was only some kind of game?

"Machi," Daryan breathed. The pain was evident in his drawn face.

"Yes," Machi said. "Yes," he repeated himself, "Yes. Get permission. I will marry you."

"Damn, that's a relief," a choked sort of laugh escaped Daryan's lips. "I'm so happy now. So happy."

"Me too. ...But I will be happier when all the paperwork go through."

Together, lighter, they laughed.


End file.
